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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766309">Purple Plaid, and Leather Jackets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Drowsy_Captain/pseuds/The_Drowsy_Captain'>The_Drowsy_Captain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Body Art &amp; Kink AU Overwatch [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Alternative Universe - Body Art and Kink, Ankle Cuffs, BDSM Scene, Bottom Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Cis Male Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Cock Piercing, Dildos, Dom/sub, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Gay Sex, Genital Piercing, Kink, Kinky, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Masochist Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Mild Painplay, Nipple Piercings, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Other, Piercings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Size Kink, Smut, Tattoos, Tongue Piercings, Top Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Trans Roadhog | Mako Rutledge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:15:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Drowsy_Captain/pseuds/The_Drowsy_Captain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamison has an appointment to continue work on his new tattoo. Things go a little south when Mako strikes just the right spot and causes a moan to spill from his lips.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Roadhog | Mako Rutledge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Body Art &amp; Kink AU Overwatch [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome back to the next fic in this au! You can read it any order, it'll still make sense, however <i>Next Saturday, My Place</i> describes the setting. </p><p>Yours truly, a very exhausted author.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jamison-or as his buyers knew him; Junkrat-nervously bounced his good leg as he hunched over his phone in the overly plush waiting room chair. His hair was a mess, the best he could get it from an hour of combing and brushing, still splattered with random dyes from his work. His hands were no better, stained with dye, cut up with slightly peeling silicon on them. Occupational hazard. Even his prosthetic arm wasn’t safe, it was far worse than his intact arm with neon green dye all the way up to the unfinished tattoo traced out on his stump.</p><p>He’d thrown on something random before leaving the house, forgetting to check what he was wearing. On accident, he’d grabbed a black tank top that had the logo of his favourite sex-toy brand across the front. Thankfully, it was just the logo and unless you knew about the brand you wouldn’t be able to even know it was an adult toy site. He had also grabbed actual pants, instead of his usual work-shorts. They were deep purple plaid, clinging to him the same way skinny jeans did. He had to use a custom belt to keep them up, thanks to his lean waist. </p><p>He tugged at the sleeves of a well-worn, black leather jacket, with patches by the elbows, a few spikes he’d done himself on the shoulders and a couple of rough patch job seams with whatever coloured thread he had on hand that day. His mind was wandering as he busied himself with checking his businesses account on Twitter, sifting through the retweets and likes. So busy in fact, that he didn’t notice the man standing in front of him until he coughed. The cough startled him harshly, causing him to jump a little, his gaze shooting up to the large man standing a few steps back.</p><p>He was tall, that was for sure. Jamison wasn’t exactly sure how tall, but he was at least six foot six… His exaggerated proportions didn’t stop there, with a large belly from beers and snacks after and during work. The former never occurring during work, he had more self-respect. The man was dressed in a white wife-beater with loose blue-jeans around his hips. Jamison could just barely make out the tattoo on his stomach. A black face-mask obscured the lower half of his face with a small pigs snout on the front, but his eyes still stared down at Jamison, causing him to squirm a little.</p><p>The detail that threw Jamison through a loop was the thick leather collar around his neck. It was dark black with a silver O-ring on the front. It had been there the last time Jamison had an appointment. He privately wondered if it was an expression of his dynamic, or a sign of ownership. He hadn’t had the guts to ask yet, hoping it was the former far too often.</p><p>“You good?” the man asked gruffly from behind his mask, tilting his head at him.</p><p>“Yeah, mate! I’m great! Sorry, got a little startled there, that’s all,” Jamison started to ramble as the man shook his head and started to walk further inside the shop.</p><p>Jamison was quick to follow. The man before him was known to Jamison as Roadhog, a damn good tattoo artist here at Blackwatch Body Art. This large sleeve was the first of many Jamison had wanted to get. He had a strict ‘go big or go home’ policy and stuck to it. He used the same philosophy with his gaming, play, and work, and it seemed to work for him. </p><p>As he trailed behind Mako, he couldn’t help his gaze drifting over his body. Large proportions created such a huge canvas for tattoo’s, demonstrated by the many that littered the man’s body. Jamison wasn’t looking at the tattoos though. He’d examined them plenty the other times he’d been in Mako’s company. Jamison was looking at something else, the curve of Mako’s ass, sculpted perfectly by the way that Mako’s jeans tensed around his hips. </p><p>He was so lost in how perfect that it would feel in his hands and around his cock that he almost missed Mako stopping and opening the door to his workspace. Jamison almost walked right into him, had it not been for those cat-like reflexes he’d had since a child.</p><p>“Take a seat,” Mako grunted, gesturing to the red-leather chair in the center of the room.</p><p>“You got it, mate!” Jamison agreed, hanging his coat on the rack by the door and taking a seat on the plush leather. He also placed his prosthetic arm on the steel table next to him. The chair squished underneath him, hugging around his legs as he sat down. </p><p>He watched Mako as he moved around the office. He clearly had all the tools out already, but he was washing his hands, gloving them and setting some music on to softly hum in the background. Jamison didn’t mind the music, Roadhog wasn’t much for conversation, so it gave some background noise if there was ever a lull in the conversation. </p><p>But Jamison talked too much for there to be a lull in the conversation. </p><p>Mako took a seat on his rolling stool, scooting over to the chair that Jamison was sitting on. </p><p>“Sit back,” he ordered, fiddling with the controls on the side of the chair.</p><p>The chair moved about as Jamison shuffled into a comfortable position with his arm next to Mako. When Mako was satisfied with how high up Jamison was, he held up a hand to let Jamison know he was going to start.</p><p>Jamison started to ramble as Mako picked up his gun to begin.<br/>
“So, the same guy made a custom order again. This time it’s for three custom designs from the Outer Worlds game released back in 2019. I got a soft spot for the game, so of course, I said yes. His taste is making me wonder who the hell he is though, I know he lives in our city cause the address is for here. I wanna meet him, just to find out how the hell he manages to fit the monstrous sizes he orders…” Jamison rambles, continuing on as Mako supplies grunts and occasional ‘got ya’s and ‘mhm’s. </p><p>The tattoo pen didn’t hurt Jamison, it just fueled an ungodly fire in his body that he could only wish to have control over. He was overly-thankful for being on his stomach as his dick started to rile up in his plaid-pants. He stopped looking Mako in the eyes though, choosing to watch him working in the mirror instead.</p><p>“... and then I told ‘er, if she didn’t like my work, no one was forcin’ ‘er to look at my feed!” Jamison vented, recalling an infuriating interaction he had the other day.</p><p>“Her loss. Your works great,” Mako mumbled before he could catch himself. His face brightened like a tomato when Jamison started giggling, never pulling his arm away as Mako continued to work.</p><p>“Ya actually looked at my work?” Jamison tittered, glancing his head over at Mako. The flutter in his dick turning to a full pulse at the thought. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but there were more than a few videos on his page showing demonstrations of his toys in action. <i>Of himself</i>. The thought was more than enough material for a few days.</p><p>“Was followin’ ya before you booked your first appointment,” Mako admits, the embarrassment subsiding in his stomach at the other man’s relaxed reaction and the lazy smile he was giving him. He’d snuck a glance.</p><p>“Well ain’t that the best damn compliment I’ve had all day,” Jamison remarked as Mako continued to work away.</p><p>They fell into Jamison’s rambles again after that, something about another tattoo Jamison was planning. Then a story on how he got the idea for his recent product. Followed by a mild brag about how he had recently completed Breath of the Wild Three, especially that he’d completed the <i>whole</i> game, and not just the story.</p><p>At some point, Mako had tuned out Jamison, focusing on one of the more complicated details of the tattoo. He was engrossed in his work, making his way down Jamison’s forearm. He felt the man shiver underneath him, shrugging it off as a reflex as the back of his mind hummed with obscene creativity.</p><p>Then he tattooed right over the scar on his arm and Jamison let out the loudest, sultriest moan that Mako ever had the pleasure of hearing.</p><p>He stopped the movement altogether, gulping roughly as he shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the dampness starting between his thighs. </p><p>With the gun off his arm and his face brilliant scarlet, Jamison was staring at the wall dead-ahead of him. </p><p>The two of them sat in awkward silence for a moment, both men secretly hoping the other enjoyed it, with a little wishful thinking that the other felt the same way as them. Both too shy to state it.</p><p>Moments ticked by, both waiting for the other to say something. As the silence stretched longer, Mako’s music from his speaker playing absently in the background with a deep beat and a male voice singing. </p><p>“Should I-?”</p><p>“I’m sorry-!”</p><p>They said at the same time, both clamming up again.</p><p>“You first,” Mako urges, looking at the floor.</p><p>“Nah, say yours mate,” Jamison tries to dodge the request.</p><p>“I insist,” Mako says, hoping his scary exterior helped the words.</p><p>“So do I,” Jamison replies, adding a bit of force and command to the tone like a dom instructing a sub.</p><p>Mako swallows thickly, his heart in his throat and all his blood going south. He sits in mute silence. He felt like a teenager again, nervous about doing anything and admitting his truth.</p><p>“Do you want me to stop for today?” he asks finally, still not looking up.</p><p>“I kinda want to continue. Ya got a cloth I can use so I don’t bother ya?” Jamison requests, turning to look at Mako.</p><p>“It doesn’t bother me,” Mako admits all too quickly, wanting to stuff the words back in his mouth after they leave.</p><p>“Well then, continue,” Jamison says, trying his hardest to stay collected as his mind screamed inside his skull at the words, playing them over and over again.</p><p>Mako doesn’t reply, afraid that he’ll say something stupid again. He just picks up more colour as Jamison wraps his hand around his mouth, returning to watch through the mirror as Mako continued to decorate his arm. </p><p>Both of them sit in sexual tension as muffled moans roll from Jamison’s lips while Mako tries his best to keep himself under control. Private thoughts meant for private nights <i>alone</i> keep surfacing to his mind, fueling the fire caged in his jeans.</p><p>To both of their surprises, he managed to finish the tattoo. Jamison was his last client for the day (he’d done the night shift that day), so Mako didn’t have to worry about spending the day in sticky underwear and shuffling through customers. He could just go back to his apartment and relieve some stress. </p><p>Jamison was now standing by the door, awkwardly holding his prosthetic arm because his stump was too sore to replace it. He also had his leather jacket hung over his arm. He leant against the counter as Mako put away his tools.</p><p>“So… what’s your name?” Jamison asked, eyeing Mako with his coat positioned over the tent in his plaid-pants. </p><p>Mako forze for a moment, turning to arch an eyebrow at him.<br/>
“What?”</p><p>“Ya know, yer real name. I know it ain’t Roadhog,” Jamison says, taking a few steps towards the frozen man.</p><p>Mako blinked, flustered a little at the implication that Jamison wanted <i>his</i> name. </p><p>“Come on, I know ya got one,” Jamison continues, placing his jacket and arm on the chair next to him. Thin stained fingers reach up, pulling down the front of Mako’s mask.</p><p>A large silver nose-ring sits between his nostrils. Large lips with a small hint of femininity are pressed together in a thin line.</p><p>Jamison almost doesn’t catch the name that leaves his lips. But he was fairly versed in reading lips.</p><p>“Hm, Mako huh?” Jamison hums, pretending to think on it and making Mako squirm a little in place.<br/>
“I like it!” he finally declares. </p><p>A sigh of relief leaves Mako’s lips as he relaxes slightly. The actual close proximity of the man finally hits him, causing his face to flush with pink. </p><p>“Is that all?” Mako presses, hoping its not but still having to ask.</p><p>Jamison merely smirks, cupping Mako’s jaw.<br/>
“I mean, that depends. Do you a want it to be all or should we-”</p><p>Mako cuts him off; “Just fucking kiss me.”</p><p>So he does. He tips himself up a little to get a good angle, still cupping his jaw as he uses teeth and tongue. It’s rough, demanding, with a hint of trapped passion behind it. Mako’s hand’s ghost down Jamison’s sides, causing Jamison’s mind to panic that he’s going to be pushed away, only for them to rest on his hips, pulling him closer.</p><p>Jamison’s boner presses against Mako’s stomach, causing Mako to pull his head back. Jamison whines a little at the loss, but Mako continues to hold his waist. </p><p>“I don’t got any more clients today. My truck’s outback, do you want to…?” the question trails off as he realizes just how much of a teenager he sounds like. He’s forty-eight for christ’s sake, he shouldn’t feel like a teenager anymore. Much less as to bounce with his twenty-five-year-old client. But he can’t help himself, and Jamison certainly isn’t protesting.</p><p>A smirk appears on Jamison’s face as he grabs his jacket and arm from the table.<br/>
“Lead the way, I took the train ‘ere so I should ‘ave the whole day if I want.”</p><p>“Okay good,” is all Mako can manage as he tugs at his collar, grabbing his keys and jacket before ducking out of the office.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. White Leather, and Pink Cuffs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Smoll warning UwU</p><p>this has bdsm themes in it and goes from 0 to 100 really quick</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Much to Jamison’s surprise, Mako’s truck is large and jet black, it’s high off the ground with metal steps to get into it. Mako gets in with ease, however, Jamison shuffles himself a little, being much shorter than him. The seats inside are white leather, surprisingly clean, almost brand new. Everything’s clean, which surprises Jamison. Mako turns up the music, playing some alternative beat that Jamison recognizes from </p><p>There are a few details around the truck that his eyes pick up as Mako starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot. Mako’s arm rests on the center console, tightly wrapped in his leather jacket. A mustard colour hanky sits in his left pocket. Jamison sucks in a breath at the implications; he’s hung. Jamison feels like he’s stepped into Heaven’s gate.</p><p>The truck ride felt like forever as he kept glancing from the road to Mako’s face - hidden once more behind the fabric face-mask -. He wasn’t getting nervous, far from it. Thoughts of what he could get up too soon were flooding his mind. But he had no access to his collection, this wasn’t a hook-up at Deadlock. He had to rely on Mako’s collection, and that made it all more fun.</p><p>Desperate to have a general idea of what to do, Jamison speaks up;<br/>“So, are the hankies just for show?” he quips, focusing his eyes on the road. </p><p>“That depends. Do you know what they mean?” Mako grunts, a smirk forming behind his mask, lifting the corner ever so slightly. </p><p>Jamison makes a popping sound with his lips.<br/>“I’ve been around Deadlock a few times,” he illudes, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head.</p><p>“Not for show,” Mako admits, drumming his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel.</p><p>Jamison grins with the information that’s been presented before him on a silver platter. He silently wonders if he can get other things delivered to him on a silver platter from Mako.</p><p>“I’m clean. Ya clean? Or do ya want me to use a condom?” Jamison asks, just a precaution. </p><p>“I’m clean. Use what you’re comfortable with,” Mako grunts, giving Jamison a lookout of the side of his eye and raising his eyebrows a little.</p><p>Turning his head to grin at Mako with a smug, satisfied smile he asks;<br/>“What kind of digs you got for me ‘ta root you in?” </p><p>“Condo. Soundproofed walls,” he grunts, still staring at the road as he turns around a corner, apartment complexes and condo’s coming into view as they enter the right area. Jamison’s house isn’t too far from here.</p><p>“Oo! You a squealer?” Jamison titters, watching as Mako’s face flushes red behind his mask.</p><p>Mako doesn’t answer the question, simply parking his truck in an outdoor parking lot. He gets out of the truck with a grunt, locking the doors as Jamison does the same. With a sense of pride and smugness, Jamison struts after Mako, still half-hard in his pants as a few too many lewd ideas bounce around his mind. </p><p>There are five things that stick with Jamison. One; Mako’s been to Deadlock, which means he knows what he’s doing. Two; he’s a sub, the collar around his neck isn’t much to go off of, so Jamison’s assuming. Three; he’s hung, the information on the hanky displayed for everyone to see - he’s aware that most wear them on their jean pockets, but it’s starting to become a trend to wear them on other items as well -. Four; his condo’s soundproofed - Jamison revels in this fact -. Five; he doesn’t need a condom. He stores these facts away for later as they ride the elevator up to Mako’s condo. </p><p>The ride up is silent, with the annoying elevator music he thought was only for movies. He fidgets with his fingers as the elevator doors open and he follows Mako out into a landing. A door swings open with the quick flick of Mako’s keycard and he steps into a… </p><p>Very well taken care of, condo. It’s clean, from top to bottom. The kitchen island has white marble countertops and black wood bases, all spotless, even the silver oven and fridge. A grey couch in the shape of an ‘L’ faces a large flat-screen TV, pristine and clean, with fresh blankets draped over the sides strategically. He follows Mako through the open concept to two sliding french doors. </p><p>He pushes them apart, allowing Jamison to step inside and have a look around while he stands expectantly at the door. Hands folded at his side and back straight. The floors were carpeted with a soft white shag, stain-free. The walls were painted a creamy grey, slightly beige.</p><p>In the middle of the room stands a huge, custom bed with extra supports. He recalls seeing it in the back of <i>Overwatch Specialty Toys</i> when he made his trip to set up a small table and sign a deal with the owner, Jack Morrison, to sell his products. Jack had mentioned it was being custom ordered by someone. It stood as the largest object in the room, with soft pink sheets and a plush grey comforter. </p><p>His attention was quickly drawn away from the bed by three large, black shelves on the same wall as the door. They held a pretty collection in order of the size of dildos. He immediately recognized several custom ordered ones that <i>he’d</i> made. With a smirk, he turned to Mako, hands on his hips.</p><p>“So, you’re my client,” he states, rather than asking. There were several items on the shelf that were made in the original colours. After he sent out custom orders, he never remade them in the same colours when he made the moulds live.</p><p>“Didn’t exactly know how to tell you,” he confesses, looking down at the floor. </p><p>Jamison snatches two bright pink cuffs off of the shelf and crosses the room so he’s standing in front of Mako. With the cuffs hooked over his finger, he tugs the mask off of Mako’s face and replaces it with his own lips. It’s heated as he holds him still by the collar. Mako doesn’t move to push him off so Jamison pulls away when he feels like it.</p><p>“Go to your bathroom, strip down to whatever you’d like, loosen yourself good, and then return here,” he orders with a heavy, commanding tone, letting go of Mako’s collar and turning his attention back to the wall of Mako’s toys. </p><p>Mako nods, disappearing from the room. Jamison puts his hands on his, selecting a strong chain to clip the cuffs onto, a pink blindfold - damn he’s got a lot of pink -, and a large camo-printed dildo. It was his favourite to create, as Mako’d told him vague details and let him have his freedom. It was heavy and thick around the head, lasting all the way down until there was an inch left and then it narrowed down until it flared out in a large base. The thicker part was curved, creating a modest ‘S’ shape. He couldn’t even reach his hand around it. </p><p>Mako returned to the room, coughing slightly to announce his presence. He was dressed in nothing, attempting to cover himself with one hand and fidgeting with his collar, still around his neck, with the other. When his hand shifts, Jamison can see his semi resting against his thighs. He’s cut and pierced, a large silver barbell through the middle - a deep shaft - and a curved barbell hooked between the skin of his head and shaft - a king’s crown -. </p><p>Jamison grins, gesturing over to the bed for Mako to lay down. Mako takes the hint, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. Jamison’s eyes never leave the man’s dick, causing him to blush and twitch under his gaze. It only fuels him more. </p><p>“Safeword?” Jamison asks, standing next to him and gently guiding him to sit back on the bed.</p><p>“The traffic light system,” he grunts, laying back and holding his arms up as Jamison locks the cuffs around them and the headboard, holding him in place. He recognizes the system as the same one used at Deadlock. It’s good, he’s most versed in it.</p><p>“Good, now trust me, piggy and I’ll make you squeal,” he whispers, holding his commanding tone as he slips the pink blindfold over Mako’s eyes. </p><p>When the world goes dark for Mako, everything seems to slow down. He registers Jamison’s fingers sliding down his legs, parting them and attaching cuffs to his ankles and the bedposts. It’s slow and agonizing as he follows Jamison’s movements with bated breath. </p><p>He inhales sharply when a blunt, slick sensation presses against his ass. He twitches, causing Jamison to grin as he pushes the heavy head inside him. A needy groan slips past his lips as the head clears, fueling Jamison more. He works him with soft thrusts, pushing the dildo farther and farther inside him, enraptured by how well he takes it. A soft “fuck” fills the air as the dildo hits against Mako’s prostate, the sensation amplified by the fact it’s <i>all</i> he can focus on. <br/>When the dildo’s fully seated inside him, the touches stop. Mako tries to listen, shifting his head around for a hint of Jamison. It’s given to him by a kiss on his thighs, sucking on his skin as one hand starts to stroke his length. A squishing noise suggests Jamison doing a little more than he can see. </p><p>His hand works him until he’s sitting at full hardness, twitching a little as the dildo inside him is shifted and thrust around. His hips buck as it moves to sit perfectly around his prostate thanks to it’s ‘S’ curve. A chuckle fills the room as light hands graze on his skin, drifting upwards and almost brushing against his shaft before pulling away. He involuntarily bucks his hips up, desperately seeking that sensation again. </p><p>However, it’s replaced tenfold by Jamison straddling his hips. The skinny man presses a surprisingly plump ass against his length and Mako grinds his hips slightly. </p><p>“Beg for it,” a commanding voice tells him, cupping his pec and rolling the piercing on his nipple over in his finger.</p><p>His mouth flounders, struggling to get some sort of word out. He can’t, his mind slipped to far away to find the words to ask. With great struggle, he manages out a strangled “Please” mixed with a needy moan.</p><p>It seems to be all Jamison needs. He shifts back on him, hands resting across his stomach for support as he angles himself to sink down. Mako’s eyes roll back in his head when he takes him in one go.</p><p>It’s a Heavenly pleasure. Each piercing rubs in just the right ways against Jamison’s insides. When he’s fully seated again, a metal ball rubs against his prostate each time he grinds down. Nails sink into Mako’s stomach as he shifts his hips back, just enough to reach around and move the dildo in Mako. </p><p>Mako’s big, really big. As big as his forearm. And Jamison loves it. He revels in it, bouncing his hips up and down rhythmically and grinding down as he listens to him come apart underneath him. Nimble fingers slip around the ring of Mako’s collar and tug on it, causing the other man’s breath to hitch as he leans down and presses a needy kiss to his lips. The pill-shaped piercing on Jamison’s tongue finally registers to Mako as he rolls it over his tongue. </p><p>Jamison’s hands slip down, fondling at Mako’s pecs, skinny fingers roll the perk buds over, tugging at their piercings. He continues to move his hips, never once letting Mako slip out of him. He sits up from the kiss, his pace quickening as he angles himself just right and moves the dildo inside Mako in time. Mako mumbles out an incoherent sentence meant to tell Jamison he’s close, and Jamison seems to decipher it. </p><p>“Come for me, pet,” he orders, angling the dildo just enough so it hits against his prostate fully.</p><p>Mako grunts and curses as his spunk coats Jamison’s insides, clamping down around the dildo. Jamison fucks his hips down onto him two, no, three times and moans with enough lust to make a pornstar blush. Ropes spray across Mako’s stomach as he struggles to keep himself upright. </p><p>In a last bit of strength, Jamison unties Mako’s hand, allowing him to pull off his own blindfold. Mako does so, taking in the sight of Jamison collapsed across his stomach, still seated around his dick. He holds his back as he sits up and undoes his feet. </p><p>After a moment, Jamison gathers himself again, sitting up enough to talk to Mako.<br/>“What do you wanna do for aftercare, mate?” he asks, sitting back and letting Mako pull out of him. Cum starts to leak out, down his thighs.</p><p>“You good with staying?” he grunts, rubbing his wrists.</p><p>“Don’t got no curfew. I can stay the night if you want,” Jamison supplies, tittering a little as he stands to stretch his legs. </p><p>“‘Pizza sound good?” Mako asks, standing up as well and steadying himself with the side of the bed. His legs feel like jelly.</p><p>“Hell yeah! Point me to your bathroom and I’ll draw us a bath,” Jamison cheers, beaming at Mako.</p><p>Mako smiles softly as he points Jamison in the right direction. He grabs his phone from his jacket pocket, leaving the dildo inside him as he moves to his bathroom. He sits on the lid of his toilet as Jamison draws a bubble bath in the large jacuzzi tub. </p><p>“Your place is fancy as shit. Ya parents rich or something?” Jamison asks as he checks the water.</p><p>“Nah, my job pays well. Gabe’s got some pretty good connections,” Mako grunts, opening the pizza app on his food.</p><p>“Well damn, wish I could afford a fancy place like this. My apartments pretty tiny, on account of my business taking up most of it,” Jamison says, gesturing with a hand full of bubbles.</p><p>Mako nods, tapping out his password. They order pizza, giving them twenty minutes to wash and get ready. One Hawaiian and one meat-lovers, with chicken wings and breadsticks. The bath was warm and soothing, Jamison settled between Mako’s thighs happily. Mako’s phone dings that the pizza’s been delivered to the front desk, already paid for on the app. He gets up and retrieves it (dressed of course).</p><p>Jamison borrows one of Mako’s shirts to hang around in. He spends the night, watching a shitty movie before dragging Mako back for another scene. Neither complains when they fall asleep after a quick shower with Jamison cuddled up in Mako’s arms.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is also far in the future, I am aware that hankies are worn in jean pockets atm.</p><p>Links and References;<br/>-If you want some very nice sites to purchase fantasy dildos; Twin-Tail creations &amp; Bad Dragon; are great sites.<br/>-Yes, Deadlock was 100% inspired by Take It Off by Kesha<br/>-Hanky Code</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Inspired by Tongue by MNEK<br/>The Outer Worlds is actually a great game, I will die for the characters. Go check it out!</p><p>Oop! Did I reveal where Jack is? Hm, maybe we'll find out with the next instalment in this AU.</p><p>Thanks for reading the story! Remember to do your own research before engaging in BDSM, kink, getting tattoo's/piercings, and anything else in this fic. Most importantly, Consent is KEY!!!!</p><p>Comment, kudos, and subscribe to the series because I may be planning on making more for this universe!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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